Calvert And Dawson
by words-with-dragons
Summary: Robert Calvert always knew. [Jack/Rose/OC] Oneshot


**calvert and dawson**

Robert Calvert always knew. [Jack/Rose/OC]

* * *

He met her during the summer of 1923. She was considered an old maid by that time, yet only at truly the tender age of twenty-eight. He recognizes her from the papers, as she's making headlines with her successful acting career. Her fiery flyaway hair is blowing in the wind as she looks up at him, her lips slightly curved in a smile, and she politely asks for directions to the pier in Santa Monica.

"It's right over there ma'am," he answers. "It can be a bit confusing, though, I'd be happy to walk the way with you."

She accepts his offer with an inclination of her head. "Thank you."

"I'm Calvert, Robert Calvert," he sticks out his hand and the sturdy grip of her hand surprises him.

"Dawson," she replied. "Rose Dawson."

And he thinks, even then, that he always knew.

* * *

It seems like she's always battling her impulse to do everything ("To make each day count," she says, smiling even though her eyes darken with a strange sort of sadness) and guilt to even look at him. But she laughs and smiles a lot, her quips as fiery as her hair and she can find beauty in anything and everything. She tells him of her acting career and all of the eccentric characters she meets. She tells him of her travels and it seems like she's been everywhere.

"You're like a tumbleweed blowing in the wind," he says, impressed.

Her smile almost seems to fade. "Yes, I suppose so," she says at last, and her smile grows, but he gets the feeling she's not really smiling at him.

"Have you ever thought about settling down?" he asks, hoping he comes across as nonchalant.

"One day," she says slowly.

He gathers up the courage to ask her out and she's completely silent and unreadable for a few moments. He's stuttering out apologies when she cuts him off with a resounding, "Yes."

They go dancing; she's surprisingly talented at it. Her eyes are unusually bright and her cheeks are wet - tears? - but he chalks it up to the heat of the club lights and the sweat that builds as she dances the night away.

* * *

She only tells him about the Titanic on the anniversary when she wakes up screaming beside him in bed. She confesses that she was on the ship, that she ended up in the water, and then she breaks down sobbing. He goes to hug and comfort her but she pushes him away and he gives her space.

He tells him only what she wants to; her story is the bare bones, the minimum. He knows she's holding back. He never presses her and she never tells him. He can't imagine going through an experience like that; he knows he wouldn't want to talk about it either.

So he lets it go, even though he knows she never will.

* * *

Rose breaks off the engagement, only to come back a few hours later with the ring still on her finger. "I'm sorry," she says miserably, crying freely. "I was scared and..."

He's hurt, but he's just so glad to see her again. "It's okay. Come in, you must be freezing."

She nods and her hair and clothes are damp from the rain. He fetches new ones from their bedroom and there's a steaming cup of tea waiting for her once she's changed. "Thank you," she says meekly. She goes to take a sip, and then sets the mug back down. "Robert... are you satisfied?"

He raises his eyebrows. "Satisfied? What do you mean Rose?"

"Is just... is what I'm giving you enough? Am I holding back too much? Because I'm giving you all I can afford to give but it's not all of me, and I'm sure you can sense that and I'm sorry I can't give you all of me but I can't," she wipes her eyes, sniveling.

"You're enough Rose," he assures her, gathering her in his arms. "You're more than enough. What you give is more than enough." He wonders if it was about her first love; he could still remember his, bright and blonde and beautiful, but they couldn't do long distance. There was still a part of his heart sealed away for her, no matter how small that part was.

"Do you still want to marry me?" Rose sniffles.

"Of course," he presses a kiss to her temple.

She's crying on their wedding day. There's a sadness in her eyes, but a sort of pride and happiness too. When she looks at him as they say their vows, he feels like she's looking beside him too, even though no one is standing there. They have a toast.

"To making it count," Rose declares and they all raise their glasses.

"To making it count," their various friends and his family echoes. Her eyes are swimming with tears again and she grips his hand under the table tightly.

* * *

When the anniversary of the Titanic rolls around, he leaves her be. She mourns each year; who she's mourning exactly, he doesn't know. It's a hard three days for both of them, but once they're over, Rose is more full of life than she's ever been, with a renewed desire to make each day count. They do everything she hasn't done yet, even though it doesn't seem like there's much she hasn't done.

They always find something to do, however, but more often than not they go to an art museum.

* * *

They have a baby boy. Rose insists on naming him Jack, his middle name being Thomas. She never gives a reason beyond that fact that she likes the name. But he's always liked the name too and he can see how much it means to her, so little Jack Thomas Calvert is born to the world. A few years pass and they name their little girl with Rose's copper curls. They name her Josephine, after Robert's grandmother. Rose smiles when she hears the idea and agrees.

* * *

Years later, he passes away. Rose is with him in the end and he's struck by how she seems to be an expert at saying goodbye. When he crosses over, he's greeted not by his parents like he expected, but by a young man - twenty at most - with an artist's hands and floppy blond hair.

And the man tells him the full story of the Titanic and Robert isn't surprised, really. He's always suspected; deep down he's always known that there was another man who held Rose's heart in his hands. He realizes that the bright, bold woman he loves wouldn't be here without the man standing in front of him.

"So in the end, she'll come to you?" _And not me._

"I think so, yes," Jack says. Robert finds it fitting, and besides, it's hard to be angry. The peace of heaven washes over him and besides, they had been apart for eighty-four years.

"She never stopped loving you," Robert tells him. He knows Jack understands that it meant that Rose loved him too, even if it seemed to pale in comparison to what she felt for Jack. "She never let go."

Jack wipes his eyes and smiles. "I know. She's carried me with her. Thank you for taking care of her when I couldn't."

Robert smiles. "You always took care of her," he corrects him and Jack's smile softens. "If you two ever come to wherever I'm going, drop by for a visit, okay?"

"We will," Jack says.

And Robert goes on, because she's always been a Dawson, deep down, and now knowing her full story, he can't feel anything but pride and happiness for her. And Jack can't help but feel grateful that she loved a great man - two great men - and that she'll return to him at the top of the grand staircase and that she made it count.

And Rose, as she shares a smile with her granddaughter, "Not even to your grandfather," is ready to go home.

* * *

**I've been wanting to write something about Mr. Calvert for a while, of what his relationship with Rose was possibly like while she moved on yet still loved Jack with everything she had. So that's where this came from. I hope you enjoyed it.**


End file.
